


Memory

by howterrifying



Series: The Denial Mode Series [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlolly - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howterrifying/pseuds/howterrifying
Summary: Sherlock learns that some things are worth committing to memory.(written 15 Jan 2015)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: The Denial Mode Series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732471
Kudos: 32





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> The Denial Mode Series began in the midst of me struggling to get through my soap opera of a multi-chapter fic, The Admirer. In between, as a sort of refresher, and also as my way of ‘denying’ I had stuff to work on, I would call out for these prompts. The call was to either send me a single word or a single song. I received all sorts of lovely responses and these are the stories that developed from them. They mean a lot to me and I remember every single one of them from just looking at their titles. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them. :) x
> 
> ::
> 
> Anonymous asked: Memory :3
> 
> Thank you for the prompt! This song was the first thing that came to mind when I saw your prompt. So I hope you don’t mind the way it turned out! xx

**Memory**

  
_Me-mory-yyyy…. all alone in the moo-oooon light…. I can smile at the old daaayssss….._  
  
Sherlock sighed as he folded the newspaper into quarters, and then again into thick, un-quarter-able quarters from sheer frustration.   
  
“What’s the matter, dear?” said Mrs Holmes as she brought a cup of tea out for her son, “You’re going to crumple that paper if you do that.”  
“If you stopped belting out show tunes in my flat I might be less inclined to crumple things,” he muttered under his breath.  
“I don’t know why you dislike them so much,” his mother muttered in return, “Perhaps you should join us for the matinee this Sunday, I got you a spare ticket, just in case. _Cats_ is a classic…”  
“No!” Sherlock exclaimed, before clearing his throat and staring sheepishly at his mother, “I mean, uh, no, _thank you_.”  
  
Sherlock’s mother glared hard at her son as she set down a tray of biscuits at his side table. The detective gulped a little nervously and contemplated leaving the room or hiding in the fireplace.   
  
“I’ll go if you like,” came a voice from the doorway. Molly had just come up the stairs to Baker Street and greeted everyone with a gentle smile. “I’d always wanted to see _Cats_. Never got the chance.”  
“Oh, then you _must!_ ” exclaimed Mrs Holmes, just short of leaping over to hug the petite pathologist.   
“Wonderful! So this weekend, was it?”  
  
Molly and a very delighted Mrs Holmes wandered off into the kitchen to make Sunday matinee plans. Sherlock smirked at how Molly had saved the day - again. He settled comfortably back into his armchair only to be startled by a quiet cough. It had come from his father. Somehow, Sherlock had neglected to notice his father who had been sitting at Sherlock’s desk reading articles all morning.   
  
“You know, Sherlock,” his father began.   
“Hmm?” the detective responded, unfolding his crumpled newspaper.  
“You should marry her.” his father said, before lowering his voice down to a whisper, “Seems a good catch.”  
  
The detective chuckled to himself as he continued flipping through the newspaper.   
  
“I already have.” Sherlock replied, almost smugly.   
“I beg your pardon?!” his father exclaimed.  
“Oh, do keep up, Dad.” Sherlock said.  
“I don’t remember a wedding…”  
“Well, I do.” Sherlock answered.  
  
He looked up from his paper and spotted the figure of his wife chatting with his eager mother in the kitchen.   
  
“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” his father pressed.   
“What for?” Sherlock answered, momentarily flashing back to the day he married Molly.   
“What do you mean, _what for_?” exclaimed his father, perplexed.   
  
Sherlock smiled as he spotted the inconspicuous silver ring that Molly wore casually on her index finger. Nobody needed to know, really.   
  
“The day I married Molly is a day I’d like to always remember,” Sherlock explained, “And it’s a memory I’d like to keep as ours alone.”  
“Well, you could have at least told us—”  
“Do you remember _your_ wedding, Dad?” Sherlock asked, interrupting.   
“Well, your mother had the most beautiful dress on, and I remember she wore her mother’s pearl bracelet. Something about having _something borrowed_. Also, her shoe broke halfway and she laughed till she cried at the altar…” he recalled with a laugh, “She cried so much I was practically kissing her tears by the end of it!”  
“There, you see,” Sherlock said with a smile.  
“See what?”  
“What’s the point of having anything, or anyone else around,” Sherlock said, “when all you really do remember, is _her_?”   
  
His father smiled and leaned back in his chair. The old man looked up at his wife and upon seeing her smile and hearing her laugh, thought back on his own wedding.   
  
“Ah, the memories,” the old man murmured wistfully.   
  
Sherlock, too, looked up at his own wife, and smiled at his father’s words.   
  
“No,” he remarked quietly, “ _Memory_.”

**END**


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